


legends

by elinciacrimea



Series: a gentle sunlight [4]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Family, Gen, Main timeline, Mid-Canon, Somewhat canon divergent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-27
Updated: 2019-09-27
Packaged: 2020-10-29 08:35:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20793746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elinciacrimea/pseuds/elinciacrimea
Summary: Brady takes a second chance, and spends time with the aunt he never met.





	legends

**Author's Note:**

> You'll see here that Emm isn't quite her paralogue self, no full amnesia, but she's not fully healthy either. She did fall off a cliff, that leaves its mark.

Brady's used to miracles. Going back through time was a miracle. Finding his moms was a miracle. Hell, the fact that he's alive at all is a miracle.

Still, this new miracle has been tough to process. After all, it's the one thing they'd all come to accept was impossible. Brady might be a priest, _ technically_, but he's never put a lot of stock in the gods - how could he, in the world he lived in? How could he, watching his mother pray to something that never helped her, that didn't even save her life? Even with all her power, Naga hadn't been able to stop Grima, not where Brady came from. And so his world has been left behind, crumbled to ash.

But maybe Naga is looking out for them, after all. At least, Brady can't think of any other explanation. 

Because through sheer luck and fate, Exalt Emmeryn is alive. And they found her, somehow. Brady hadn't ever seen his mother - _ this version _ of her, that is - cry that hard. He'd never seen Uncle Chrom cry at all.

But they had been tears of joy. The Shepherds had rescued Emmeryn safely from the small village where she'd been hidden from the Grimleal, protected by villagers who hadn't recognized her with all her injuries, only seen a frail woman in need of aid. She had been badly hurt, struggling to even stay awake, but alive. Bringing someone so frail along on the war trail would be ridiculous, even for an army filled with time-traveling teenagers, multiple dragons, a near-extinct race of bunny people, and whatever Henry is. So now Emmeryn lives in Ylisstol, in a small room off the castle infirmary, her very life only known to a handful of people until they can be certain the Grimleal won't come for her again. She's tended to round-the-clock by the land's finest healers, her siblings at her side every moment they don't absolutely have to leave it, and she's kept safe.

The Shepherds are in Ylisstol now, recovering from the Valm campaign, while Frederick and Robin try to find the last gem to complete the Fire Emblem and stop Grima. Until then, the army waits, and while they're all stiff with tension, a bowstring pulled taut, there's nothing to be done until the intelligence comes back, nothing to be done but wait. Wait...and look after Emmeryn.

She's recovering, they all say. Shaken, hurt, confused, but she's feeling better every day. And she's happy to have visitors - not only her siblings, but Panne, Libra, Lucina, Owain, plenty of others have been in to see her, and come out with wet eyes and smiling faces.

Brady's a little scared. All he's ever known of Emmeryn is a portrait in the sitting room, a circlet his mother would cradle in shaking hands when she thought he wasn't looking, a name whispered between his parents and uncle like a saint's, a quiet prayer to a woman who couldn't hear them. A _ legend_, far moreso than any of Owain's stories about heroes and birthrights and magic blades.

"Just go see her," Owain had said. "She's nice, I promise."

"I _know_ she's nice," Brady had groused back. "But _I'm_ not."

Owain had only laughed at that, and not told Brady what the joke was.

Now, in front of Emmeryn's door, the bright purple flowers in Brady's hands feel stupid. Cynthia helped him pick them, and that's the only thing that keeps him from tossing them over his shoulder now. Crushing them would be a waste of her hard work.

Brady takes a deep breath, offers up a brief prayer to whatever gods happen to be listening, and raps his knuckles lightly against the door.

"Yes?" The voice is faint. "Who is it?"

"It's, um…" Brady screws his eyes shut. Lucina's already explained their whole _ situation _ to Emmeryn, so he doesn't have to worry about that, but it's still awkward to say. _ Hi, I'm your little sister's son, but I'm actually about the same age as her. Nice to meet you. _ "It's Brady. I'm, uh...I'm Lissa's oldest kid."

"Oh? Come in, please."

Brady considers bolting one more time, but he obeys the quiet, placid voice, and opens the door.

The room is warm, and filled with sunlight from an open window (and the scene outside looks innocent, but there's a guard posted in the tree outside, Brady knows.) Flowers and decorations adorn the small but cozy space, the bed is neatly made, and in a rocker beside that open window sits a tall, thin woman.

_ She looks like Mom, _ is Brady's first thought. Taller, though, and with neater hair, wrapped in a thick robe with a blanket laying across her lap. There are scars on her face and hands, including the one across her forehead that renders her mark of the exalt illegible. But there's no way it could be anyone else, because those gray-green eyes that turn gently towards him -

They're his mother's. His mother's, his _ real _ mother's, the adult her, who smiled when the world was still burning, who always believed the sun would come back, the her that _ he couldn't save just like he couldn't save Ma _-

Brady realizes he's staring.

"Are you well?" Emmeryn's eyes have widened in concern. "You look a little pale…"

Brady forces a smile that probably looks like a grimace. He's probably scaring this gentle, fragile woman, with his ugly face and hulking build. Not that he isn't used to that, but it still stings. "Just - just a little surprised to meet you. Never, uh - never got to before."

"I see. You said your name was Brady?" 

"Uh - yeah."

"Ah." Emmeryn's face softens. "You so resemble Maribelle."

Brady blinks. "I don't get that a lot."

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Brady. I'm sorry, I'm not up to standing right now - but you're welcome to take a seat." She gestures to the table across from her, and the wooden chairs perched beside it.

"Thanks." Brady remembers his flowers, and half-shoves them at her. "I, uh - picked these. For you. Mom - Lissa said you liked flowers."

"Oh, they're lovely." Emmeryn smiles fondly at the vivid petals. "Thank you. Would you put them in a vase for me? There's an open one by my bed there..."

"No problem." Brady drops the flowers into said vase, probably crushing a few by mistake, but flower-arranging is Cynthia's strong suit, not his. "There ya go."

"Thank you very much. Please, do sit down."

Brady takes the indicated chair, legs squeaking on the floor as he turns to face Emmeryn. Quiet hangs in the room, the only sound the birds twittering outside.

As the silence builds, Brady's discomfort grows with it. He feels unworthy. Like he shouldn't be in her presence, like she's too valuable for him to even look at - after all, this is _ Emmeryn_, who is all but a saint. Emmeryn, the last exalt to know peace on the continent, who was assassinated seeking to keep that peace. Emmeryn, with a shadow so long that even his uncle and mother felt lost in it, who haunted them all, who always hung in the war council room like a specter, that unspoken _ she would have done better, she would have stopped this, she would have saved us _ \- 

Of course Brady doesn't know how to talk to her. How can he? How do you speak to a legend?

Emmeryn's smile has faded. She just looks confused, and the sight makes Brady's stomach twist. His eyes dart across the room as he tries to find something, anything to talk about - and then they land on the small table at Emmeryn's side, where a small line of twisted yarn is lying.

"Ya knit?" Brady asks, and immediately winces at how loud his voice sounds. "I mean, er...do you knit?"

"Oh!" Emmeryn looks slightly surprised. "I do, yes. It is...a way to pass the time. It is difficult to do many things with my injuries, but...my fingers are in decent shape, so I have been knitting. Lissa brought me some yarn…" She picks up the scrap of fabric. "I was trying to do a lace pattern, but I fear I may have...overextended myself. It's rather a mess."

"It looks nice," says Brady diplomatically. It is a mess, though, which is surprising. He sort of assumed Emmeryn was just naturally perfect at everything.

"Do you knit as well, Brady?"

"Crochet, actually." Brady's chest puffs up slightly. "Ma taught me the basics when I was sick once, and I learned a bunch more patterns an' stuff...I could teach ya. If you want another way to pass the time."

Emmeryn smiles. "That sounds nice. I appreciate it, Brady."

"Thanks, er…" Brady pauses, trying to settle on how to address her. "...Lady Emmeryn."

"Forgive me, but...I'm still getting used to all this, and my memory is…" Emmeryn winces. "Rather patchy. It's difficult for me to...follow conversations, sometimes. You are...Lissa's son? With Maribelle?"

"Yep. From the future, like Lucina. I know it's kinda weird."

"I don't mind weird," says Emmeryn. "I merely mean...you're welcome to call me Aunt Emmeryn. Or Aunt Emm, if you like. My siblings call me Emm."

"Er…" Brady scratches the back of his head. "I mean, I appreciate it, but you're kind of...you know. You're Exalt Emmeryn."

Emmeryn looks perplexed. "I'm...afraid I _ don't _know."

"It's just - you were...kind of a big deal. Where I came from. Here too, actually."

Emmeryn looks rather embarrassed. "I'm not so much as all that."

"Are ya kiddin' me?" Brady can't keep from sounding incredulous.

Emmeryn shrugs, apparently at a loss for words. And Brady can't think of anything to say, anything except for the things he knows he shouldn't.

_ Where I come from, you're a saint. _

_ Ylisse was never the same again from the moment you left it. _

_ My mother, your sister, found your body, and the guilt haunted her to the day she died. _

Brady can feel a blush creeping up his face as they stare blankly at each other. Emmeryn looks uncomfortable, and it's his fault. Great job, Brady.

It's Emmeryn who breaks the silence, lowering her head. "Brady, I...I do not wish for you to be frightened of me."

"I'm not frightened," Brady lies automatically. "Just - awkward. Sorry."

"Perhaps I am a...big deal, as you put it," Emmeryn murmurs. "But that - that lies behind me now. For now, I am merely myself."

"But you're - " Brady swallows. "You're a _legend_."

"Maybe I am," says Emmeryn. "But I am as...fallible as any other person. After all, you've seen my knitting." She waves a hand towards the tangled yarn. "I am simply human. And I would like to get to know you - as your aunt. Not as your Exalt, or a legend. That is the honest truth, Brady."

"Oh…" Brady stares at the floor. He's sure his ears are red by now. "I, uh...sorry. If I'm makin' ya feel bad, I mean. I'm just - a little out of my depth."

"Well, I am too," says Emmeryn. "Mere weeks ago, I had no idea I even was an aunt."

"That's fair." Brady rubs the back of his neck.

"Chrom's daughter…" Emmeryn frowns, brow furrowing. "I'm sorry. Her name was...?"

"Lucina."

"That's right." Emmeryn smiles softly. "I always liked that name...I suppose that's why Chrom chose it. Anyway...Lucina was much like you when she came to see me. She was...frightened."

"Really?" Brady shifts in his seat. "I thought Lucy wasn't scared of anything."

"That's hardly true. Everyone's scared of something. But either way...there's no need to feel bad. We are all in the process of...figuring things out, aren't we?"

"I guess so." Brady forces himself to look up and meet Emmeryn's eyes. They really are just _ too much _ like his mother's, but he doesn't look away this time.

"If you don't wish to spend time with me," says Emmeryn gently, "then that's all right. You have no need to stay with me out of...obligation, or anything of the sort."

"No - no, that's not it!" says Brady hastily, leaning forward. "I do - I do wanna spend time with ya. Honest. I just...wasn't sure where to start."

Emmeryn's smile is tremulous. "That is...a relief to hear."

The quiet that falls this time is more companionable, much to Brady's relief. "So, uh - you met Owain, too, right? My brother."

"Oh yes," Emmeryn shakes her head. "Despite the state of my memory, I...can quite clearly picture that visit. It was...a unique experience."

Brady winces. "That bad, huh?"

"Not bad, no. But he had a speech prepared, and he addressed me as…" Emmeryn's brow furrows. "I believe it was…'Exalt of Legend and Endless Courage…'"

"Yeah, that sounds like him." Brady sighs. "Sorry 'bout that. He's a handful."

"Believe me," says Emmeryn, smiling, "I have experience with, ah...strong-willed younger siblings."

"You would, wouldn't ya?" Brady scoffs. "Do you know, once Owain was playing Legendary Crusader and I had to help him down off the kitchen cabinets before Ma found out?"

Emmeryn laughs. "That does remind me of Chrom at that age. And of Lissa, slipping frogs into his doublet before important meetings…"

"Mom and her frogs."

"Indeed." Emmeryn tries to hide a yawn, but Brady spots it.

"Are ya tired?" Brady leans forward, squinting at her. "I can go, if you wanna rest…"

"I'm afraid that might be best." Emmeryn smiles apologetically. "I am sorry...my energy…"

"Nah, no problem." Brady gets to his feet. "Next time, I'll bring my crochetin' stuff, and we can work together on it."

"That sounds lovely." Emmeryn reaches out and rests her scarred hand over his. "I am happy to hear that there will be a next time."

"Sure will!" Brady's chest puffs out. "You're my aunt, ain't ya? And I'm a healer. I know that you gotta take care of the heart if you want the body to get healthy. So I'll keep visiting ya, til you're feeling better."

"I am happy to have met you, Brady." Emmeryn's smile is like his mother's, all sunshine and warmth. "You truly seem a kind soul. I am...very proud to call you my nephew."

Brady's eyes burn, but he doesn't bother trying to hide the tears. "Thanks, er...Aunt Emm."

Emmeryn's smile at those words is even brighter.

**Author's Note:**

> They're sweet, and I think they'll be very close :*) Thank you for reading! :)


End file.
